


On My Mind 24/7

by fiddleogold_againstyoursoul



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleogold_againstyoursoul/pseuds/fiddleogold_againstyoursoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some thing I wrote to kill boredom.<br/>Midorima and Takao as adults, the latter having become an emotional wreck whom self harms. They haven't seen each other since graduating from Shutoku, and Takao isn't eager, either...having become someone he really doesn't want Midorima to connect with the happy go lucky Takao from before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a multiple part series, and this is Part One. If you enjoyed it, please follow and maybe favourite, it means a lot...also, I'll add Part Two soon, so stay connected to this series!  
> P.S. OK, Midotaka has to be the most canon pairing in KnB. They're freaking adorable together, and I support them 10/10. Let's be fellow Midotaka supporters, kay?

"Hey, Takao, you forgot your coffee!" Takao's colleague waved to the man, and Takao Kazunari shot him an apologetic glance as he dashed out the office doors. The urge was killing Takao, literally pressing down on him, cutting off his very breath. He needed to get home, get anywhere, anywhere that was free from man's prying eyes and inquisitive glances. Anywhere he could cut and feel at peace.  
"Takao!" It was the manager, broadening his steps as the aged man stepped before Takao, cutting him off completely. "I need you to handle something. There's an appointment at six in the Kushikobo Restaurant tonight, and I need you to take my place for me. My wife is desperately ill, and anyway, the meeting just needs a representative." Takao opened his mouth to protest, to make claim of his non-existent skill to win over clients or seal business deals, but the manager raised a halting hand. "No work required, just sit there and look pretty. After all, you're the looker in our business, and if you smile, we'll most likely seal the contract with Fortune and Co."  
Sit there and look pretty. Takao smiled...or faked one...in defeat, and promised he'd be there. The voices in his head grew louder, angrier, telling him:  
"Yes, you're gonna screw up, so why bother? Quit your job, exit any relationship you have with the outside world. You're worthless, you're nothing, Takao Kazunari." Inwardly he cringed, the fists shoved into his pockets screwing tighter, tighter...why did the manager's words seem to have no end? "Well then, Takao, thank you, and good luck."  
It took ages for Takao to run home, to lock the front door with trembling fingers, out of which the keys slipped not once, but thrice, and even more time for him to lock himself in his room. There the voices faded to a din in the back of his head as he picked up the razor on his dresser with horribly shaky hands. It only took three cuts, positioned on a part of his abdomen that would not be life threatening, or visible, for him to feel as if he had taken morphine. Blood flowed steadily, unfalteringly, and the basin on Takao's dresser, which he would soon empty and wash, caught it all. He bandaged the wounds quickly after that, wincing as the pain finally sank in and he clenched his fists with not impatience this time, but pain.  
"Takao Kazunari, you are a self-harming, antisocial freak."  
Takao told the stranger in the mirror. The stranger had a gaunt, pale face, perspiration trickling down his head and the side of his neck, wild crazed eyes that suggested lack of sleep and most probably insomnia, which Takao did often suffer. He was not the Takao of the Shutoku days, when he had Shin-chan by his side and was a renowned point guard worth his steel. His eyes widened as he thought of that name. Shin-chan.  
Takao had lost all contact with Midorima Shintarou ever since graduating from high school. In fact, he had forgotten about the green haired Tsundere...and maybe Shin-chan had forgotten about him as well. Takao had kept switching phone numbers since then, when the depression had first kicked in, losing all trace of his previous life and friends. He remembered a line he'd seen a person also diagnosed with depression say. "The most painful thing about depression is pretending you're alright. It's faking a smile and swallowing the pain till later when it envelopes you and you can't escape it."  
Takao was sick of pretending and faking, of wearing that perfect unbending mask of calmness every day of his life. He'd discreetly slipped away from, the doctor who'd diagnosed him with depression, saying he was already much better, but in fact his condition had gotten worse with each passing morn. That was when the cutting had started. The self-harm. It soothed him in ways he couldn't comprehend to see the blood flow unceasingly, to feel the numbness that came with the pain as the blade pricked through his skin, a thin layer of skin that hid only bones and veins. "I wonder if I'll ever get over this," He whispered hoarsely as he gazed into the cesspool of his own blood in the basin that had collected it over the years. "No, I don't think so. I want to...I want to, that's for sure."  
But he had one small comfort, and that was the fact that as screwed up and horrible as his life was then, far away and distant from all things normal, he would never have the urge to take his own life. No, however weak and small Takao Kazunari was in fact, he would have to be on the brink of insanity to even want to do that. Maybe he was insane, senile, and simply too naive to see it any other way, too naive to believe he was crazy, off his rocker. Small comfort that was. As always, he felt tired after harming himself. Ignoring the basin of blood, he sank onto his bed wearily and simply let sleepiness overcome him.

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Takao woke to the sound of a familiar ringing. It was 'Sakura', a song from his childhood. It took Takao a while to process that it was his cellphone that was ringing. He answered it like a man in a dream. "...Hello? Takao speaking."  
"Ah, so you were asleep," A strangely familiar voice said. "I am the representative of Fortune and Co. I'm waiting outside the restaurant now. Is this the Mr Takao I was meant to meet?" Meet...Fortune and Co...Takao sprung out of bed limberly and began stripping of his sweat-streaked work clothes. He absent-mindedly grabbed a tuxedo set from his closet and began to dress hurriedly. "Ah, yes, I'm sorry, I'll be right there." After that, the strange person on the other end hung up, and Takao found himself listening to the dial tone.  
"Goddamn, I forgot about the fucking meeting!" Takao swore, and fastened his tie securely. He grabbed his car keys from the dresser he had dropped them on and headed out in a rushed frenzy.  
Again, it took him a long time to lock the house door behind him, and the voices screaming in his head didn't help. Takao cursed as the car's ignition wouldn't start and when it finally did, he stepped hard on the pedal as if punishing it for the car's incompetence. To be sure, it was an old car, and soon needed to be sold for a new one, but Takao hadn't really bothered. Now, he regretted the decision as the vehicle travelled with snail-like speed on the busy roads. Was the man...it had been a masculine, deep voice...very impatient then? Wood his tardiness and horrible planning skills jeopardize his company's chance of a contract? Takao thought about all these things as he gripped the worn leather of the wheel with Herculaneum strength. His fingers were terribly stiff and numb from the tension.  
One small mercy was the sudden disappearance of the voices in his head. They had mysteriously faded after the phone call, but dread still gripped the throes of his heart. Were the bandages tight enough? Or were they too tight, would they leave stretch marks on his abdomen? "Worry wart," Takao chastised himself and swerved at a corner. "It'll be fine, dumbass. Because I told you so." This came as hardly much of a consolation, but Takao managed to squeeze out a sliver of a smile. It looked horribly out of place on his bloodless face, magnified by the bags under his eyes. His colleagues had asked about his condition, and Takao had passed it over as pulling too many all nighters. There was truth in that, he supposed. He pulled into the parking lot outside Kushikobo Restaurant.  
"Ah, you must be Takao Kazunari." A man walked up to him. Takao's eyes widened and he fell backwards onto the car door he had just opened to exit. "Sh...Sh..." The representative of Fortune and Co. had green hair, not nearly reaching his black glasses, framed on all sides but the top. He had a handsome face, with intelligent eyes and the hand he extended to Takao was taped over. He had on a neat black suit with a blue, questionably bright tie and polished shoes. In other words, the perfect businessman. But that wasn't what jarred Takao then, neither was the questioning look in the man's eyes. "It's you? Shin-chan..."  
At the nickname, Midorima Shintarou frowned and retracted his hand. "I didn't like that name ten years ago, so why would I now? Takao." His eyes scanned over Takao, making the smaller man feel very uncomfortable. Takao's hand touched his abdomen instinctively, where he had freshly made cuts just now. He faked a smile and laughed nervously. "Well then, shall we enter? Midorima-san." He couldn't help quaking a little as Midorima walked behind him when Takao found the booked table in nervous tension. He was about to ask Midorima to sit down when the larger man's hand closed around his own. "You don't need to be so nervous, it's a business appointment, not a date, Takao." Takao jumped at the touch and gave a high pitched, over strained laugh as he slowly pulled his hand away. "Ye...yeah, I'm sorry, Shin-chan...I mean, Midorima-san..."


	2. Killing Me To Think About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to On My Mind 24/7.

Slumber was to Takao what it was to all other youths, the only time their crazed hardwired minds could rest and stop overworking as they contemplated past conversations and deeper meanings. But to Takao it was different. Sleep...was also the only time he would stop thinking of his condition. Day in and day out, there was that little voice in his head screaming at him to move, to stop breathing, to hurt, to cry, to feel. Most times he forced it down, and it came out some time later in his solitude, mostly signified by tears and choked sobs and blood he drew just for the sake of knowing he could still feel a pain deeper than emotional ones.  
Yet it was a distant dream for the insomniac now as he lay on the crumpled bedsheets, cold and forbidding, and listened to the whirring of the fan blades as they turned in a monochromatic way. Takao envied them this. Even being monotonous would be better than this cruel inconsistency that was his life. His thoughts turned to the dinner. They had sat down at a table for three.  
The manager had spoken the truth when he had said that all Takao was needed for there was to look pretty. The man from another company whose name was so insignificant Takao dismissed it completely had been an avid chatter. He had struck up a most intense conversation with Midorima and Takao had been left to smile stupidly and sip from his Ocha. To be sure, the black-haired man preferred it so. Words could betray him. Eye contact could make known his deepest fears and the torment Takao struggled with every second of his life. Yet he wished Midorima had insisted on talking to him.   
"Shin-chan," Takao whispered, so softly and tenderly he grew afraid of it, the words he had spoken while thinking of the man whom used to be his dearest friend. Did 'Shin-chan' remember? Did he leaf through the pages of his memory to see the one-sided way Takao had used to admire him? Or was Takao now not much more but a friend from auld lang syne...if friend he could be called...that he had just met and held no great significance to him whatsoever?  
'Stupid, stupid,' The voice in his head taunted. Takao clutched at his temples as it grew to a loud hum, more than one of his inner bullies ranting at him unmercifully. 'No one wants you. What importance would you prove to anyone anyway? Silly little Takao.' The tears came despite his bravado. Takao's nails dug into his pillow hard, harder than he had ever remembered himself doing. Perhaps he was agreeing with them. Perhaps they spoke the truth as well. Would it really be so evil to just submit to them, to admit they were right and just...just fade from this world which cared not for him?  
'Sakura' started playing, and Takao stifled his heart-rending sobs to answer the call. "...Hello?"   
The voice was surprised. "Takao? Is that you?" Unmistakably it was Shin-chan. Shin-chan whom Takao knew, whom was the only thing he had connecting him to his past life, before the depression. "Yes....yes, I'm Takao." He prayed fervently that it wouldn't be made clear he had been crying. Midorima still sounded suspicious on the other end. "Are you alright? Takao?"  
A blind rage filled Takao, he wanted to snatch up the phone and scream into it no, that Midorima wouldn't ever understand, he was not alright and he could prove it. "Yes." Instead.  
A pause. "Takao, I'm coming over." What? The background noise faded and Takao was vividly aware of the roaring of blood in his ears. He snatched himself up almost hungrily and jabbered a stream of nonsense into the phone, small talk he hoped would make it seem like he was fine. Yet some part of him wanted Shin-chan to come over. How he knew where Takao stayed was beyond him, but he wanted the sense of reality that being beside another living human would bring him. He wanted to escape that horrible voice in his head.  
It took him a while to realise that Midorima had hung up. Takao turned his phone off dazedly. Then he lifted his shirt, his night shirt at least two sizes too large for him. The bandages seemed alright. Not too tight. There had been an episode in his life that he bound them tight for the sake of feeling dizzy with the pain. He had quickly corrected himself. While short periods of numbness and light-headedness was fine...at least to him...there was no point in suffering eternally on purpose. Takao realized he was lost in thought before remembering what Midorima had said so slowly and firmly.  
"Takao, I'm coming over."  
Takao looked at the razor on his dresser. It was covered with dried blood. Though he knew that could collect rust, he'd never really bothered to wash it. Blood poisoning wasn't exactly new to Takao, at least not compared to some of his other worries. Now, he dumped the blade in the trash can. No doubt Takao would regret it, but he wouldn't risk any chance of Shin-chan knowing he cut himself. The basin was clean, at least. He'd seen fit to wash it after wearily returning from the dinner.  
There went the doorbell, and Takao froze. He hadn't heard anything like that for too long. Finally he took a careful look at his dishevelled self in the mirror and rushed to the door.   
Swallow. Clench your fists. Now open it, and smile. He ordered himself as he opened the front door.  
It took just one look at the unsmiling Midorima Shintarou at the doorstep, shoving his large hands into his pockets for Takao's plan to fail. His smile diminished and the greeting he'd worked up came out as a faint "Come in." Takao felt the heat of his former partner's eyes on his back. He led him into the small, cramped living room and posed a question about if Midorima would like some tea.   
"It's 9 PM, Takao." Midorima said pointedly. Takao drew in a shaky breath and gave a nervous giggle. "Yes...I'm crazy these days. Sorry, Shin-chan." The silly grin on his face was hoped to imitate his one of old, but Midorima didn't seem convinced. His dark eyes took in the trembles of Takao's thin form, the dismal surroundings and his stilted grin with something like disappointment. And yet there was a feeling in them that Takao couldn't quite comprehend. It was as if Midorima was looking at him the same way a mother would at her child whom had gone astray. Takao longed to reach out and grab his arm, to feel the solidness he doubted even now.  
"Takao, you're not ill, are you?"  
"Tsk, don't curse me, Shin-chan! I'm just a little tired. And I'm so nervous to see you after so long! Have you married yet, Shin-chan? Raised a family?" What scared Takao was Midorima's expression. It was of deep pain, and he didn't even lift an eyebrow at the nicknames. "....no, not yet. And you?" The question came out as awkward and most unnecessary. Even a dumb person could conclude from Takao's living environment that he was very much single. In fact, Takao couldn't remember his last date with a decent girl. Nor the last time he'd allowed alcohol to pass his lips. "Same here. Well, we're still buddies as always, huh?"  
Midorima looked at him for a second in which the silence was thick enough to be cut through with a knife, and then held out an arm. Takao didn't understand for a while what he was implying. "Takao, come here." The larger man drew Takao into his large frame and the latter breathed, surprised, in the scent of Midorima's cologne. He still smelled like the Shin-chan of old. In fact, Takao couldn't tell what had changed about him at all save for his height and the matured look about his striking features. If Midorima had been tall before, he was a giant now, and Takao relished in that as he buried his face in the man's chest.  
It felt better than anything he'd ever tried to do to escape the pain...better than the numbness he felt after cutting himself, better than the pills he'd taken to just escape it all, better than all of it...just being with Shin-chan, Takao forgot about everything else.  
"I missed you," He heard, but didn't believe his ears. There was no way in absolute fucking hell that Midorima would ever say something like that, grown up or not. Takao pushed free off his grasp and looked somewhere around Shin-chan's feet. Then he looked up at his face. This time there was no mistaking the absolute pain in Midorima's eyes. They screamed of pain, screamed of turmoil and reluctance to accept this harsh reality. "I...I...how did you know my number?" He tried to focus on other things, anything other than the state of absolute bliss he'd entered when Shin-chan had just touched him.   
"You gave it to me, remember? I asked you over the Tempura," Midorima said. "Did you forget?" Takao nodded slowly. To be honest, he'd forgotten most of the meal, as he hadn't played much of a part in it. He rumpled his hair distractedly. "That doesn't explain how you knew my address...or why you insisted on coming over."   
"I tracked your phone satellite signal. It's really not that complicated, Takao, to track someone using your phone. As for other matter..well, you judge for yourself. Are you really fine, Takao?" There was genuine concern in his tone, but that only irritated Takao more. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "I told you I'm fine. You really want me to say it a thousand times, Midorima?" Midorima. It occurred to Takao that it was the first time ever that he'd called Shin-chan by his proper surname. Something flashed in Midorima's eyes...hurt? Regret? Irritation? Whatever it was, it faded instantaneously as the green haired man adjusted his glasses.   
"Then I'll be taking my leave. I apologize for disturbing you...Takao."  
Takao didn't remember if Midorima let himself out. He didn't remember lying on his bed in numb silence, and finally letting sleep overtake him. What he did remember was the hurt tone of Shin-chan when saying his name...'Takao' as if it was dynamite. He wanted to call him back. Because it was killing him to think about Midorima then.


	3. Tell Me When It's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You won't let go, right? I need you..."

Sweet. Takao dumped the sugar into his drink and watched the fine silver grains dissolve into the dark liquid. "Takao, here's something for you," Takao's colleague, Aoi, popped up with a package in his hands. Raising an eyebrow, Takao took it with a mouthed 'thanks' and when the man had gone, he studied the brown paper package critically. No name. No address. Nothing to indicate the person who had sent it at all. Takao hesitated for a second before ripping it open.   
"...what?"   
Out tumbled a sheaf of rectangular paper cards, and a stuffed dog. Takao stared at them for a moment. The cards were all blank save for one that had a series of numbers printed on it. "20-15 20-1-11-1-15. 20-8-5-18-5 9-19 14-15 14-5-5-4 20-15 5-24-16-12-1-9-14 25-15-21-18-19-5-12-6 20-15 19-15-13-5-15-14-5 23-8-15 23-9-12-12 14-5-22-5-18 21-14-4-5-18-19-20-1-14-4. What the hell is this?!" He considered throwing the cards away but something odd prompted him to keep the one scrawled over with numbers. As for the stuffed dog, he let it rest again his desk and then resumed drinking his coffee.   
Bitter. Even with the piles of sugar Takao had lumped in, there was a bitter aftertaste lingering on his tongue that he hated...the same way with the Popsicles he'd eaten as a kid, the sweet hollow things that had a horribly sour inside. Thinking about the past made him shudder. 'If you submerge yourself in the past, it will drown you,' He reminded himself. As it was daytime and there were people milling around in the busy office, the voices inside had been silenced...and he drew comfort from that, however fleeting the comfort was when he greeted with resignation a horrible sinking feeling in his chest that it would be worse after work hours.   
The familiar 'ting' of his company email inbox receiving a new email made him glance at the screen absently. 'From fortune@Gmail.com....' Takao paused then, feeling a strange wave of heat roll into his body. "Shin-chan..." That was an annoying habit as of recent, just murmuring his friend's name for no reason, unconsciously even. He scolded himself angrily inside and then forwarded the email into the company main email where it would be seen by his superiors. The others he looked over and marked as spam, one even advertising lingerie.   
Takao then scanned over his existing work assignments and found them as up to date...as if that was a surprise. However messy he had been before, Takao or today saw order and discipline as a necessity to cradle his chaotic thoughts. He let out a soft sigh, very easy to mistake for a deep breath, and leant back into the soft office chair, rapping his knuckles on the table. Yet all that intruded into his empty thoughts then was 'Shin-chan'. His scent, his new height, the broadness of his shoulders...and the hurt on his face when Takao had so very rudely dismissed him. Takao dropped his head into his arms in frustration...at himself more than at Midorima. Would it be too late now to apologise? To beg for Shin-chan to forgive him? Then his stubborn side came back.  
'What did I do to him, to have to apologise?'  
For some reason, Takao's eyes drifted to the card of numbers unreadable and indecipherable. There was something missing, he knew it. Something important he must've forgotten. "Hey, um, Ito-san?" He unnaturally called out to Aoi, whom grinned at him from behind a table of paperwork. "Yes, Takao? It's just Aoi. You know that," There was something about Aoi's grin that made Takao's heart ache...perhaps it was a ghost of the grin he used to sport. Anyhow, he inhaled sharply and posed the question. "The package just now...whom sent it over?" Takao could actually feel his heart stop as the younger man rolled his eyes to heaven in deep thought.  
"Umm, actually it was given to me by that cute girl at the coffeeshop. She asked me if I knew Takao Kazunari...and shoot, I said yes. Why? There a bomb in there, Takao?" He laughed at his own joke and Takao squeezed out a smile as well. "Did she...did she say who it was from?" Who on earth would send him a card with numbers on it and a toy dog? And a girl, at that?  
"She said it was from...oh, shit...my short term memory is going off again...someone whose name was like...uh..." Aoi pursed his lips in concentration and Takao fought back suppressed irritation.   
"Ah, it doesn't matter." He smoothed over the hair on his forehead and recomposed himself. There was no need for him to break down over some weird gifts, right? Takao picked up the dog and turned it over in his hands carefully. It looked like Hachiko, the dog from the story that had made him shed tears when he was younger. Even now the thought of the faithful canine waiting for his master whom would never return brought pricks of tears into his eyes. Its ears were soft, and it had soft blue orbs as eyes. How adorable! When he brought it to his nose, there was a fresh scent of carbolic, something like Midorima's cologne there. How strange that a toy dog would make memories of him surface. Takao looked at it wonderingly and then set it down.  
Perhaps he would contact the green haired man. Anyway, he was a force to be reckoned with in business now, and...Takao again chastised himself. 'Did you forget you're a depressed, antisocial, self-harming freak?' Screamed the voice in his head. Takao felt a terrible churning pain in his chest and slumped over, fighting off the urge to vomit. He heaved, and finally settled down, his pale face going slack. More than ever he needed the razor running through his skin, needed the drug like feeling it gave him.   
"Takao? You okay?" Aoi stepped towards him in concern, and Takao raised a hand to show he was fine. In reality he was anything but. Waves of nausea ran through him, crashing over his thoughts and clouding his ability to breathe normally. The younger man stepped back to his desk in relief, and Takao put his head between his legs and breathed, feeling a cool sensation in his ears. 'Keep yourself together,' He ordered himself. 'You can't afford to let anyone know of your problems.' After a few deep breaths he drew himself properly upwards just as the manager walked in.  
"Takao, you look hungover," The senior laughed, and Takao did too, finding it to be surprisingly easy after his mantra. "Yes, sir. I pulled another all-nighter yesterday." At this, the manager furrowed up his brow and shook his head solemnly. "Takao, that can kill you. You really look exhausted. Tell you what, take an early leave today." The proposal made Takao's mouth fall open. "That...that really isn't necessary, sir..." Though he desperately wanted to go home to the comfort of solitude, of the razor and the dark. The manager waved his hand. "That's an order, Takao. Go get some rest. Is that a number puzzle?"   
"What?" Takao looked at where he was looking at, the card with the numbers on it. "Number puzzle?"  
"You know, the kind of message kids send to each other. With 1 as A and 2 as B and so forth..."  
The gears started turning in Takao's head and he hastily grabbed the note and stuffed it into his breast pocket. "Oh, I think I know what you mean. How is your wife, sir?" At the mention of his pretty other half, all other thoughts were forgotten. "Oh, she's much better now, thanks to you helping to take my place. And, oh, I forgot to mention! Fortune and Co. has decided to sign a contract for a partnership with us! It's all thanks to you, Takao."  
"Ah...I really didn't do anything," Takao said truthfully. He still had the revelation of what the numbers could become in his mind, and was very eager to go home and decipher their meaning as he bid the manager a hurried farewell and rushed out in a frenzy. It was at that moment that Aoi stood up.   
"Ah! I remember now...she said it was from her Onii-chan, Midorima Shintarou!"

 

To Takao:  
There is no need to explain yourself to someone who will never understand you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read Hachiko here...  
> http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hachi:_A_Dog%27s_Tale


	4. It's Not a Fricking New Chapter...Sowi.

Okay, so this isn't a real chapter. Gomen, minna-san... the reason I'm posting this is because I want to find partners to start a Midotaka Facebook fan page. Or group...that's even better. Inbox me if you'd like. I'm having exams now and the result of those tedious things is a very winded author-san who has also been playing babysitter with her various male friends...sigh, Author-san needs to get some girlfriends. *laughs* Anyway, expect the next update soon! (And wish me luck with my exams)


	5. Fool Me Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madness feeds, madness breeds, madness eats away at souls.  
> Sadness sees, it receives, the emotions that make us whole.  
> Bliss is lies, bliss never tries, to make our vision clear.  
> But bliss dissipates, it disintegrates, all the things we fear.

Takao was running. Running, leaping over obstacles, dodging barricades. Running from what, or after what? He didn't know. That kind of running that had no purpose. That kind of running depending solely on exhilaration. Not for competition, not for show, not for fleeing anything. That sort of running that only a madman desired.  
"Wake up," A voice said, and Takao sat up awake in bed, clad in sweat. Perspiration beaded his brow as he panted, almost as if he had actually been running. "Good morning." To whomever was listening. The room gave no response, and Takao preferred it so. Hallucinations would convince him of his senility. Depression and insanity...they were merely a few steps apart, after all. He got up and shook his messy head in denial. It was three in the morning. Three. That was not very strange. He blinked and ran his fingers through his mussed hair absently.   
What day was it? Did it matter? He didn't know.  
For a second there, he caught his breath. Was he alive? Takao widened his eyes and placed a finger to his wrist. A pulse, slow and delayed, but a pulse all the same. He breathed in relief and rummaged through the rubbish on his dresser. His phone. The screen read "Low Battery", and its light was dim, but that didn't matter. 25th April. A Saturday. Takao took in a deep, long breath and found it was delicious, the air travelling through his lungs beautifully. That involuntary movement was perfect. Like the throbs his heart gave when pumping fresh blood through veins, like the fluttering of his eyelashes when a particle of dust molested their tranquility.  
Perfect...unlike himself.   
He dragged himself into the bathroom and flicked on the light switch. An alien person greeted him in the mirror...a person he saw in every mirror, a shadow of his former self, a husk. Takao ignored himself and picked up his toothbrush. The sight of his hands, thin and knobbed, scared him. Really, they were not more than skin over bones. He massaged them slowly and then resumed his toiletry operations. Monotonously. Ritually. He brushed his teeth and took a cold shower. The water made him wake up...like honestly wake up, and while he was in there he felt like he was fine. Completely fine, where the cold water numbed his senses and left him senseless. Emotionless.  
Then he dried himself off with a worn out towel, and dressed accordingly. A T-shirt fell loosely over his scrawny limbs. A pair of pants needed a belt to be secured around his thinning waist. He wrung out the water in his hair and then exited the bathroom.  
He was hungry. It had been so long since he'd been hungry. Why was he hungry only now? Takao walked over to the fridge and opened it. Nothing, but he was met with a cold blast of air to the face. Well, not exactly nothing. Expired milk. Rotting fruit. Over-dated snacks. He shut it in exasperation and wrung his hands, disraught. "Damn...the one time I'm hungry, huh..."  
What was that sound? That musical tinkle? It was 'Sakura', his ring tone! Takao ran to his bedroom and picked up his phone. The screen read "Unknown Number". Uh-oh. Unknown meant risk. It meant stepping outside of his comfort zone. He swallowed and answered.  
"Hello? Takao speaking."  
No one answered. He waited a while before shutting the phone off and then plugging it into a charger. Damn kids and their prank calls. His stomach grumbled uneasily and Takao bit his lip. He should go for breakfast. At a...no, not a restaurant, not even a café. Maybe....yes, he would purchase some things at the grocery store. It meant less contact with other humans. It meant more solitude. And nourishment. His mouth watered at the memory of his favourite foods from his childhood...tempura, and sushi...a rich soup and Macha...that was ridiculous. He couldn't even have teriyaki now.   
After mulling around for a while, Takao grabbed his car keys and headed out.

●  
●  
●

"Onii-chan, that guy over there is pretty cute!" Takao's keen ears picked up on a conversation between two sisters. He chanced a glance their way, and caught the younger one blushing. It'd been so long since he'd found someone interested in him. The knowledge made him incredibly self-conscious and he tugged at the end of his trousers unnaturally.   
Takao was in the random goods aisle...where there were of course, random goods that were on clearance sale. He studied a fine tooth comb for a while before turning away and smacking into another person. "...sorry," He murmured, but jumped when a pair of green eyes met his own.  
"Sh...Shin-chan?"   
"Takao," Midorima caught the man before he could stagger backwards into a stash of metal things. "You...as always, or as of always now, seem drunk."  
Takao heightened himself and shoved his fists into his pockets deftly. "Yeah...yeah...I...had a late night." Midorima chuckled soundlessly and then without warning, grabbed Takao by the arm and pulled him along a mad dash. "Wait...wait! Shin-chan! Where are you taking me?!" Takao protested as the man yanked him into a coffeehouse.  
They sat down at a table, Takao breathless.   
"Wait..why..."  
"Waiter! Can we get a menu please?" Midorima hollered, and a perky looking lad dashed forward and placed two menus before them. Takao tried again to get Midorima's attention. "Shin-chan, please...I don't understand..." He was met with a pair of scornful green eyes. "Yes, I think you do. Takao." Midorima said, and Takao shook his head valiantly. "No...I..."  
Midorima's eyes softened and so did his tone. "You have a problem, Takao."  
A problem. It sounded so insignificant in Midorima's mouth...like he could merely flick it away and Takao could be fine. Perhaps he could. His Shin-chan could do anything. His Shin-chan was invincible, unbreakable, familiar...had Shin-chan changed at all with the years? It seemed like only Takao who had changed, only Takao who didn't fit in, who wasn't wanted.   
"Shin-chan..."  
"Admit it. You have a problem."  
"How did you...know?"  
"You fooled me once before," Midorima snapped sharply, but he sighed and took Takao's bony hand as if to reassure the man. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...Shame on me. And I have never been shamed and don't intend to start, Takao." Takao stared at him blankly. The hunger he'd felt was replaced with a growing warmth he'd missed for a long time.  
Shin-chan...


	6. That Silly Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finally finished with my exams. I'm so psyched for my results to come out next week!   
> I thank everyone for their patience in sitting out this odd drabble come of merely split, unshaven thoughts...and possibly forgive me for the hurried new chapter...if it seemed hurried.  
> So arigatou, and gomen, minna-san!

"I won't see one." Takao hoped he sounded as determined as he meant to. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin stubbornly, staring directly into Midorima's eyes. The latter sighed and adjusted the glasses on his nose with an air of annoyance. "Takao..." The raven-haired man once again voiced his opinion and tried to make himself all the more taller as he clicked his heels against the floor. "I won't go, Shin-chan. You can't make me, Baka!" Midorima sighed and turned away from the defiant man in resignation, though his green eyes flashed with irritation.   
"I wonder whom exactly is the idiot."  
I suppose you're wondering what these two are bickering about. I do tend to leave large plot holes in this story. For that I apologise. Let's take you back to a few weeks ago. Now, before you start to get on about how this very irresponsible author-san left such a large gap in time behind, do bear with me for a while longer. The day after Takao and Midorima had their rather unexpected meeting in the supermarket.

Rapping sounds. Loud, continuous rapping sounds on Takao's door in the morning, sounding urgent and yet impatient. The man who was yet to be awoken from his trance, that vulnerable state between slumber and clarity, rolled out of his unkempt bed and stumbled his way to the door. Click. It opened, and a grey haired man was standing there. Words failed to express how confused Takao was. Had he charted some meeting he'd put in the back of his mind and forgotten about?   
"I'm here to see Takao Kazunari," The man was short, a good deal shorter than him. It took a few slow, drawled sentences for Takao to realise he was a shrink. The stature of the man brought new meaning to the word 'shrink'. He began to wake up, and told the man there was no such person. "You've got the wrong house," Takao said simply. "I don't know anyone by that name here." The man had insisted on knowing where the 'real Takao' stayed, and Takao had blown him off with a fake address. Luckily, he had dodged that bullet.   
He'd dressed fully when this time the person who called was a green haired man he was not very excited to see, given the early morning surprise visit or yesterday's unexpected confrontation. "Shin-chan," Takao let him in reluctantly. "Did you call that crackpot?"  
"Takao, he's a renowned...OW!"  
Takao had kneed him in the groin in indignation, and Midorima groaned loudly and had glared at him. "That hurt!" The former had stalked off to his bedroom where he had done a indigenous job of making his messy bed and clearing his dresser as if to prove to Midorima that he was NOT senile but merely in a state of depression, which was rapidly improving. "I meant for it to!" He yelled back as he swept away the dust on his mirror away, and his face was once again clear to look at.  
"Takao, damn you," Midorima entered the room and watched him as he arranged the bottles of lotion and various medication on his dresser and frowned as his eyes rested on a sharp, rusted sort of blade, the sort one would be able to pull from a low grade pen knife. "Is that..."  
Takao snatched it up immediately and shoved it into his pants pocket. "It's nothing. Don't be annoying, Shin-chan..." He really was regretting letting the man in at all. Midorima raised an eyebrow in askance and then walked a bit nearer to him. "Takao, can I see them? The cuts you made..." Takao was about to snap at him, to tell him to jerk off, to mind his own business, when he saw the look of quiet resignation in Midorima's eyes. He sighed and inhaling sharply, tugged on the underside of his shirt, exposing some of the bandaged skin on his side. Before the green haired man could get a closer look, Takao yanked the shirt back down and scowled at him.  
"I haven't done that in a while, so stop nagging."  
It was true, too. Ever since...well, ever since Midorima Shintarou had reentered his life, Takao had lost the urge to cut, lost the urge to chide himself. Now he had the daily urge to chide Midorima instead. Somehow he felt debted to the man because of that. "...Shin-chan..." He started, and then lost the will to continue his sentence and turned away. "What are you still doing here? I'm fine, I told you, so stop being so damn naggy." Takao felt waves of remorse wash over him when he said that so rudely, and especially when Midorima was merely trying to help, in his own infuriating, motherly way.  
"...sorry."  
"Takao, I'm not mad at you," Midorima said simply, suddenly lifting the smaller man with ease and setting him down against cold pillows. "I'm just...concerned. Please. Just let me help."  
Takao let out a little breath of reluctance and then allowed Shintarou to feel his forehead. Evidently the green haired man was satisfied, for he easily walked away to the bathroom and the sound of the sink water running could be heard. Takao's eyes followed him. "Shin-chan, didn't you want to be a doctor?" He remembered once, in one of his faraway days in high school, he'd walked in on Midorima reviewing a medical journal. He'd asked the same question then, and had received no answer, but Midorima had spoken with his eyes.   
It seemed a shame that he wasn't one.  
"I never said that."   
"Why did you move to this province, Shin-chan?" Takao asked as Midorima walked out of the washroom with a damp cloth. "...after I finished at university," He started a little hesitantly. Takao pricked his ears up in something like interest. "I remembered a silly promise I made to a silly friend. I wondered if he remembered me...or it...at all. But somehow that prompted me to attempt to call him." Midorima's eyes settled on Takao's face and the latter breathed in slowly, starting to remember the innocent, genuine sounding vow he'd made to Shin-chan at graduation.  
"After I finish school, I'm going to find Shin-chan! And if I can't, Shin-chan has to promise to find me instead!"  
Takao's throat grew very dry. He stared at Midorima a bit dazedly. "I...I...my phone back then...it was..." The green haired man answered for him rather calmly, swiping the cloth across Takao's feverish forehead. "It was disabled, wasn't it? That phone number...I called like a madman, about twenty or so times, until common sense prompted me to call your phone service company." He sucked in a deep breath and then gave Takao a small smile.  
"At first, for security reasons, they wouldn't tell me a thing. Then I got Akashi to help. He just mentioned his family name and they fell over themselves trying to seem 'useful'." A rueful laugh, one during which Takao started to regret using that particular phone service company. "They dropped a few hints as to how exactly you evidently were very anxious to cut all contact with everyone you knew..." A pointed glare shot his way. "And one thing lead to another, and I started obsessing about as to where you'd disappeared to...I went to your old house as well...and why you'd decided to throw that life away."  
"I don't understand. You came here looking for me? But how'd you know where I was?" Takao asked, resting a hand on his abdomen a little obsessively. Midorima let out another loose laugh from between his two perfect lips and then gestured to the window.   
"Perhaps it was fate, Takao. All I knew was that I was looking for you. I was...somehow, confident that I would find you somewhere, if not here. But something about this place seemed to be something someone would choose if he was hiding from the world. " Midorima caught Takao's look of disbelief and crossed his arms, straightening. "Takao, it was just that. I decided to start a company from scratch...it wasn't that hard, my family name and background gave me some leverage with the people here. And I was at least surviving, making new friends, but somehow I couldn't let go of that little promise. And I was...I was worried, Takao. You had just disappeared. No clues as to where you had gone, not even your relatives knew...not anyone, Takao."  
"And then..."  
"And then I started hearing about the pretty secretary in a certain company," Midorima scoffed, and Takao scowled in return. "You did not." He was replied with a raised eyebrow as if Midorima was challenging him to question his honesty and means of finding out knowledge. "Oh, I did. My sister...you remember her, don't you?...she was working shifts at the café here, when she overheard a conversation about the 'shy but cute' worker, and decided to pass it to me. Naturally, I struck up a meeting with your company, but my luck was better than I thought. They sent you, Takao. I was dumbfounded then, I promise...and perhaps that led to you thinking I had grown gruff."  
Takao felt his head start to spin as Midorima sat down next to him. "So you did all that, to find me, because you thought I was going to kill myself, because...because of that promise I neglected."  
"Yes. And I was always thinking to myself, if I ever did find you, I'd give you the harshest beating up of your life for making me worry and go to such pains so."  
"And you've stopped thinking that way?"  
"Not a chance," Midorima snatched Takao's face in his hands and then planted a rough, roguish kiss on his lips. It took the breath away from the latter, who gaped and fell backwards onto the mound of pillows, feeling numb as hell. "S...Shin-chan...you..." Midorima hovered over him threateningly, a murderous look glinting in his eyes. "Now, after you really...and I mean really, get over yourself, I'm going to beat the hell out of you. So hurry up and toss that damn thing." His eyes darted to the offending razor in Takao's pocket. "So you don't waste my time, Takao."  
The raven-haired man hesitated.  
Then he pulled it out and gave it to Midorima.  
Not that he was scared of that bastard. Just...he was rather eager to see how else Midorima would 'beat the hell out of him'.


	7. Realisation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O SCYTHE I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN UPDATING  
> Writer's block is a pain in the rear end and I have been suffering greatly from it as well as the allure of the crazy amount of books I received as random presents...  
> Also depressed Takao makes me feel like a douche bag, XD~  
> Anyway, I won't do this again...at least until the next exam rolls around...  
> TAKE THIS UPDATE, JUST TAKE IT.

Midorima flipped the coin between his fingers, watching it turn from heads to tails. It wasn't even a real, usable coin, merely a trinket a passing fortune teller had gifted him with.To be honest, he thought it was a waste of space, but his tendency to do everything he could to brighten his luck prospects had stayed with him from childhood, even developing into a lifestyle as he grew. He had, however, stopped watching Oha Asa, and his everyday accessory was no more than a key chain with the symbol 幸, or Luck, on it. Still, he took as much painful care with his nails and fingers as ever, trimming and filing almost every day, and taping them up like he had in past days.  
"You're too happy," The fortune teller had said in her almost cackle of a voice. "There's something you're forgetting, boy..."hardly fair, for Midorima was no longer a boy, and even when he had been, he'd hardly looked it..."And it will ruin you, ruin that happiness."  
Ruin that happiness.  
Midorima sighed, a small sigh that turned into a twist of his lips as he caught sight of the picture on his dresser, one of his Shutoku team at graduation. They had all been crying....Midorima excepted, of course...but a mist had fogged his glasses as well when he looked at the team he'd grown to love...the team he'd have to leave behind, and had.   
"What happiness?"  
That was a stupid question. Even he, the ultimate Tsundere...'Tsunderima', his friends had used to...quite infuriatingly...call him, could see how bright his life had been since he'd rediscovered the person he'd fallen for so many years ago, uncovered the shroud of secrets Takao had used to hide behind. Wasn't it strange that he had just overcome his depression like that?...Midorima asked himself. He'd wanted to be a doctor, once, and had studied symptoms of many different diseases. Depression, no matter what kind, wasn't something you could just get over, and sometimes the aftertaste of recovery was even more painful than depression itself. Of course, that had escalated into psychology, something Midorima had never been exactly fond of.   
Something you're forgetting.  
"She's just an old hag," He tried to tell himself, but her words burnt like flames in his mind, licking away at his thoughts. "Just a..."  
Wait.  
Depression.  
Instantaneous recovery.  
Pushing away, seeming to be fine.  
Takao had said that he'd be going home to his house rather late that day, he had scheduled a business appointment with someone. Midorima's blood ran cold, his heart nearly stopped as he remembered the words in black and white that had blazed into his mind so innocently when he'd picked up the book on depression, on self harm. "No," He whispered, in a small, trembling voice that wasn't his own. "No, no no."   
Dropping the coin from his shaking fingers, he reached for his car keys.  
●  
●  
●  
Deet deet.  
Deet deet.  
Beep...  
"Goddammit, pick up!"  
Midorima cursed, dialing Takao's phone number another time and once again listening to the dial tone. He tossed the phone onto the passenger's seat and stepped hard on the pedal, swerving past an indignant looking motorcyclist. His thoughts swirled in his head, jumbling into a mess he was sure not even a master locksmith could pick out. He was anxious, nervous...afraid. Very, very much afraid.   
His hands on the wheel were so tightly clenched that his grip turned sweaty, his palms raw as he lifted them when the light turned red and he stopped the car grudgingly. He rubbed them down the front of his dress shirt hurriedly, repeating a calming mantra in his head. Would the light never turn green? Midorima inhaled sharply, thinking of the consequences if it didn't. Takao could be gone. Takao...  
"Hold on a little more," He pleaded, and finally that bastardised traffic light shone the same hue of his hair.   
Takao. When had Takao started meaning so much to him? Then again...when had he not? Takao was perfect, Takao was beautiful. Signifying all youth could be, happy, cheerful, bubbly, teasing, lovable...but then, if those were the reasons he loved Takao, why did he still, now? Now... Takao was brave, Takao was the strong in the eye of the tempest. Takao signified all good traits born of turmoil...bravery, will to live, strength, unselfish, ever so dependable. A different Takao, but the same, the same Takao Midorima loved.  
He pulled into the small driveway...and Takao's car wasn't there.   
It just wasn't.  
Midorima's mind went blank, blood roared in his ears as his hands went slack on the steering wheel and he simply shut down, a buzzing starting in his ears.  
"Takao."  
Then, the door of Takao's house opened, and the raven haired man stepped out, eyes wide in surprise. "Shin-chan, what are you doing here?" He looked like he'd just woken from a nap, his black hair rolled around in messy tufts, some plastered to the side of his head, his shirt creased and his pants just as wrinkled. Midorima thought he'd never seen him so beautiful before.  
"Thank God, Takao," He stumbled out of the car and yanked Takao into a loose embrace, the latter releasing a grunt of astonishment as Midorima literally crushed the breath out of him.  
Takao had gotten so small, Midorima realised, so weak, so feeble, he was nothing more than a spindly skeleton in his arms.   
"Shin-chan..."  
Midorima felt a twinge of hurt as he felt how vulnerable Takao was, laying his light head on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. So easy to take advantage of, if anyone had found him in this state before he had...but no. He didn't want to think of it, but pulled away just so that Takao was looking into his green eyes, so earnest behind his glasses. "Where is your car? I thought...well, I got worried." He stroked Takao's thin back lovingly, heart pounding so loud he was sure Takao could hear it through his clothes.  
"Someone ran into the side...a motorcyclist, and I had to take it to the workshop. My colleague sent me back here, and I canceled the business appointment. You didn't think..." Takao's eyes widened again, and turned from almonds into large moons. "You...O, God, Shin-chan, you didn't think I was attempting suicide?!"  
Midorima looked away.  
His worst fears had been dismissed, and a weight was off his shoulders.   
"I sort of did," His throat was dry.  
Takao stared at him in disbelief.  
"You idiot, Shin-chan, I told you I was fine!" He shoved Midorima hard, and the latter reeled backwards. The colour had sprung onto Takao's face, indignation flashing in his silver eyes. "You idiot, Baka Baka Baka!" Midorima stared at him and found it was true. Somehow, Takao had reverted back to old Takao, perfect Takao, but just as fragile as had been the broken Takao, and that was fine.   
"I..."  
"Shin-chan," Takao grabbed him by the shoulder, tiptoeing so his nose touched Midorima's, eyes staring straight into his own. "I'm not stupid, Shin-chan, I won't..." He bit his lip, and a mist entered his eyes. "...I won't throw away the life I found because I rediscovered you!" His tone was firm, leaving no room for contemplation or doubt. Midorima was about to utter something else, a protest, a weak attempt to defend himself perhaps, but Takao kissed him, and his world turned blindingly bright, the colours around him swirling into distortion.   
They broke apart, and Takao opened the door fully.  
"Just come in, the neighborhood can see us.  
"That should be my line," Midorima ruefully smiled, but entered nonetheless and shut the door after him.  
The contents of the house were surprisingly neat, compared to the clutter Midorima had seen just a few weeks before, when he'd first confiscated the razor. He glanced around him in wonder, and Takao showed the faintest hint of his old, churlish grin. Just a hint, but a beautiful hint in itself.   
"You were mother-henning me again, so I decided to get down and clean the damn place...though I really think that the old setting would be better, of a burglar got in, he'd trip over something and give me time to call the police."  
"Ha ha," Midorima said, but fondly, as he rumpled Takao's soft hair gently. "You're an idiot, you know?"  
"You just realised that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, and you'll have to forgive me for that too!  
> :'^)


	8. You Helped

Takao inhaled slowly, his head tilting slightly sideways as he studied the rapidly changing clouds in clear view of his bedroom, white against a canvass of blue. 

"Hello," He whispered to no one in particular. Actually, he was speaking to someone. 

The voice inside him hadn't chastised or told him off in a long time. Sure it muttered disapproval when Takao decided to go out or when he dialled someone up on intention, but it wasn't that annoying, buzzing voice of before, nor did it grate on his ears as it had before...

Before Shin-chan. 

Before Shin-chan had brought colour back into his life, before Shin-chan had been the one to take the razor and thus take the thing Takao had been depending on for so long...too long...taking away his dependency, yes, but lending him a new thing to lean on. 

It was simple and it was not. The same way the riddles Takao had once a book of were simple and yet complicated, as nothing could be more deceiving than an obvious truth. 

Midorima Shintarou had broken down the walls that Takao had thought to be protecting him, but now they were lying in shatters at his feet, he could see they never were meant to guard from outsiders, only to keep his demons in. 

A simple touch from Takao's Shin-chan was enough to soothe the raging storm that was the raven haired man's soul; an uttered affection the nectar for a haggard, love-lustful soul. 

There was some truth in saying he took some sick pleasure in his ailment. There was some gruesome delight Takao attained in delivering news of his insecurities to his demons, so they might taunt and jest...at least better than the silence they left behind. 

Takao was grateful for Midorima not because the green-haired man played with his angels, but because he also loved his demons, his rogue spirits, the very things that whispered into Takao's ears and whose advice he followed, as willingly as a puppet doll made to obey his master's wishes. 

He wondered how he had brought himself to forget about Midorima in the first place. 

When he'd first started hearing the voices in his head, he'd been nothing but distraught, isolating himself from the world outside, confining himself in the sweet comfort of solitude in his room. His parents had dismissed it as naught but teenage angst, his sister as a bout of temper at Takao's recent examination results. 

He'd left behind everything and anything, refusing invitations out, locking himself away from any thing that he thought was danger, could bring danger, remotely resembled danger. 

That sort of paranoia had been painful...looking at all the people you knew and loved and wondering if they could ever or would ever hurt you. 

And Midorima. 

Midorima had left, too. He'd left for overseas, taking up medicine in some foreign land, and Takao had been lost to anything that he might ever reveal himself to. 

"I'll see you again!" 

He remembered lisping, a stupid phrase that had popped into his head as some sort of vain protest to keep up his spirits...to not let anyone see the tears that were already flowing like a broken faucet. 

He'd told himself it was fine, his Shin-chan would return in a while, and his fears would come to nothing, just silly paranoia, like the fear of the clown from the movie It he'd had as a child. 

And then, when Midorima had not come back to visit nor sent him any letters or emails, Takao had started to forget. 

Forget, forget. He'd really told himself to forget. 

Delete his number and disable his email account, grind Midorima's parting gifts to dust under his feet and tearing up letters that any other innocent person had sent. 

Fling his Shutoku jersey out the window and set his school books and yearbook ablaze, doing anything to remove all traces of Midorima from his life. 

If Shin-chan had been here, I could tell him.  
If Shin-chan had been here, he would understand. 

It was too painful thinking that way, and it hurt worse than any of the insults his demons ravaged him with. 

All the 'ifs' piled up into one mountain, two, a whole array of peaks of regret. Takao couldn't stand it. He transferred out of his college, into another school out of town, anywhere but his home place, where everything screamed of Shin-chan. He managed to claim a new identity, not as the perky raven haired point guard of Shutoku, but as the sullen, sensitive and dull teenager with bandages up to the wrists and dark bags under his suspiciously red eyes. 

He'd managed to forget. He'd managed to restart his life, to toss all the rest of it behind his shoulder in a silly bundle of reminiscence he'd never look back on. 

The rocky days of his teenage years passed into adulthood, and he was as silently miserable as ever. Heaven knew how he was able to play a better charade and make as if he knew what his life was amounting to, knew what to do with it and why. 

He was able to 'get his shit together' as he'd so say in his adolescence, and get a job that paid, not well, but it paid. He worked part time for a while before his promotion and then he quit all other part time occupations, diverting his attention fully onto his main job. 

And still the razor had been his best friend, the voices in his head his nagging parents, the blood that made blossoms of crimson appear on his bandages his sole source of comfort. Knowing you could bleed was nice. It meant he was still human, and that he could still be hurt. 

Human. 

Takao laughed and let his gaze fall on a briskly walking personage outside, a bright-eyed youth in a Guess jacket and jeans, hurrying somewhere unbeknownst to him. 

Being a human didn't make you a person, and being a human didn't oblige anyone to you. No one said you were born to be loved, to be protected. 

Sometimes, reality hurt. 

Click. 

His door opened and Midorima Shintarou stepped in, clad in a dark blue suit and a tie done in a way that flattered the man's importance. His eyes searched, and rested on Takao. 

"You finished early today. And you forgot to lock the door," Midorima firmly reminded, but his eyes were soft as he stepped towards Takao, pushing the door shut with a click. 

"I'll do it next time," Takao murmured, but a ghost of his old smile appeared on his face. It was so rare and sweet that he felt warmth bubble in his chest, to be able to smile again, how nice it was!

'Idiot.'

"You're back."

"What?" Midorima assumed Takao was talking to him and lifted the corners of his lips in a tired smile. "Yes, I am. I was worried about you, but I suppose I have no good reason to, do I?"

"No," Takao smiled wider, and it didn't hurt like it used to when he'd plaster on one for impression, for an act he was trying to keep up. "I'm glad you came here."

He walked right into Midorima's arms, and the soothing scent of the man hit him hard. 

Oh. 

...oh. 

It occurred to him how much taller the man had gotten. How masculine his scent was...though that had been noted before...how gentle were the arms that snaked about his person and stroked Takao's back slowly, as if afraid he would break. Perhaps Takao was fragile. If he was, he wouldn't be surprised. 

He could break, just like anything else, and... 

'It's okay this way.'

"I'm glad you think so," Takao told his inner voice, and felt his heart leap with a joy he hadn't felt for a long time, not since he'd left the comfort of Tokyo. 

And it was right. It was okay. It was fine. Takao Kazunari was fine. 

Sure, he'd still have urges to cut and feel cool numbness spread through him, but he no longer needed to, no longer was desperate to. 

The only marks he wanted now were the raspberries Midorima's lips traced onto his being, warm, painless, they were the definition of his irrevocable happiness and ultimate bliss. 

"Thank you, Shin-chan," Takao whispered, and so soft he wasn't sure Midorima would hear it, but even if he didn't, the green haired man's warmth was all he really wanted as an answer. 

"You helped."


End file.
